


The Crypts

by Mollyraesly



Series: Jonsa Drabbles [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 08:17:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13900023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mollyraesly/pseuds/Mollyraesly
Summary: An imagining of what could but probably won't happen in season eight once Jon returns to Winterfell!





	The Crypts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dropofrum (95echelon)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/95echelon/gifts).



> A/N: The Jonsa community is the best. And even if we have a Zutara situation on our hands, it's nice to know that our ship has real grounding in the text, the show, and people's hearts. Also, I know this is on the longer side for a drabble. Sorry!

She found him in the crypts. The fires were still lit but only barely. He was staring at Father’s statue, as she thought he might be. He and Arya were so alike sometimes it was laughable. 

But this was no laughing matter. His bringing two dragons and a dragon queen to their home was deadly serious.

He spoke first. “You’re angry with me.”

“Yes.”

“You’ve been avoiding even looking at me since I returned.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Sansa did her best not to roll her eyes. “You bent the knee to Daenerys Targaryen, Jon. Without my knowledge, without my counsel, without my permission—”

“I didn’t need your permission, Sansa. I am King.”

Sansa edged closer to him. “Yes, you are King, or at least you were before you gave the North’s independence away. But I am still the Lady of Winterfell. I am your sister.” She took a deep breath. “Did you think about that at all before you did it?” She didn’t wait for an answer. She would not stand by and wait for him any longer than she already had. “Of course you didn’t. I’m just a stupid girl. Why would you ever listen to me?”

“I did listen to you!” Jon all but shouted. He took a step backward. “I did listen,” he repeated more softly. “You said to be smarter than Father, smarter than Robb. I tried to do the smart thing. The thing that you would have advised if you’d been there. You were always in my thoughts.”

“How could you possibly know what I would have advised? You sent no ravens to ask me!”

“I was being held prisoner!” Jon’s chest was heaving with emotion. “Any message would have been intercepted. It could have put us in more danger.”

“And so instead of encrypting a message, you decided to lay with the dragon queen?” Sansa asked, determined to keep her voice steady but failing, despite herself. “You thought I would have counseled that? To make the same mistake as Robb and bring danger to the North for your own selfish love?”

Jon winced, as though she had wounded him. “I didn’t think you knew.”

“Every maid, smith, and stable boy knows of your tryst on a boat, Jon. I am the Lady of Winterfell. Of course I know.” She sighed. “Petyr warned me she was very beautiful.”

His gray eyes darkened. “Don’t speak his name,” Jon snarled. “Not here among our dead, in front of Father.”

Sansa stepped forward to be closer to him. Her cheeks were ruddy from frustration, and her hair was escaping her braid. She did not know what to say next, whether to goad him, chastise him, or scream at him some more. She wanted to pound at his chest with her fists and turn him back and blue, but she also wanted to sink into his arms and cry until her bitter disappointment in him abated. “We all trusted you, Jon,” she admitted, though it pained her. “And you betrayed the North—for her.” You betrayed me for her, she wanted to say, but the words stuck in her throat.

“I did not betray that trust. I—”

“You left us without word for months! You bent the knee! You lay with her!”

“Aye, I laid with her!” Jon all but yelled. His breath shuddered. “But I do not love Daenerys, Sansa. My heart is and always has been here, in the North. In Winterfell.”

“Then why did you do it?” 

Jon sighed. “I was trying to protect you.”

“By bedding a Targaryen?”

“She needed to believe she could have heirs. I needed to convince her that I would be loyal. You don’t know her, Sansa, she’s not like you. She’s—”

Jon went to speak on, but Sansa would not let him. “No. I can’t hear any more right now. I don’t want to hear your excuses or your lies. I don’t care why she’s different than me or why you bedded her. I don’t care why you think it was wise to bend the knee. I don’t want to hear how much you love the North. I don’t want to hear you talk about how you are doing this to protect us. I told you, and you did not listen. Listen to me now. No one can protect me. Stop trying.” She turned to leave before her carefully constructed mask crumbled.

“I won’t stop trying, Sansa.” Jon called after her. “I will do anything in my power to keep you from getting hurt.”

“You are too late.”


End file.
